Morning in May
by kisbydog
Summary: Fifteen years after the love of his life was killed, Edward has a chance to go back to that fateful day.  Canon, except no Nessie.


Entry for the 'Share Your Inspiration' contest. This O/S is based on a rock opera by the band _Ludo_, called _Broken Bride_. In particular, the last song, _Morning in May_. Here's a link: http:/bit(dot)ly/gShJJS It's a beautiful song.

**Summary:** Canon, but AU timeline. During their honeymoon, Bella decides that she likes sex with Edward so much, that she wants to stay human for awhile longer. There is no Nessie. After they finish college, she is killed in an accident. Fifteen years later, Edward steps into a time machine and goes back to that fateful day.

**Disclaimer: **The characters and original text of the Twilight series are owned by Stephenie Meyer. All other characters, settings, lyrics, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author of this story is in no way associated with said owners and no copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to my beta goddess, HollettLA. I love you!

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Morning in May

The traveller steps into the time machine. Fifteen years of tireless research, experimentation, and finally, implementation, has led him to this moment. He will see her again, of that he is certain. He clings to this conviction as if his existence depends on it.

It does.

His raw emotions have burned long tentacles of doubt and madness through his brain like cobwebs, but he will not succumb. He will try, one more time.

_He must save her._

His breathing is shallow as he goes through his pre-departure checklist, flipping switches and adjusting levers, checking and double checking every inch of the machine. There will be no mistakes this time.

Finally, he is confident that all is in place for his journey. He hits one last switch and the room around him begins to swirl, not in a perfect circle, but in and out and around, jostling him around the dilapidated house as he rides in the fused together ruins of his old Volvo. Her blood had disintegrated years ago from where it had smeared on the driver's side door. Her luscious scent no longer claws at his insides, taunting him, tormenting him, fueling his madness. He looks out upon the stark remnants of his life with her. The leather couch they had picked out together when they first moved to New Hampshire, was now faded and worn from all the years he had spent lying on it, smelling her, remembering the times they had lain on it together naked, their bodies entwined. It blurs as the machine picks up speed.

He is assaulted by the now familiar feeling of being torn apart as the time machine breaks through the barrier, moving too fast even for his keen vampire senses to detect. The chaos overwhelms him, a cacophony created by the high-pitched keening of the barrier tearing, mixed with the deep thrumming of the machine screaming in his ears, getting louder and louder until…

Silence.

As he recovers from the trauma of time travel, he realizes that there is music in the silence. Slow, rhythmic breathing.

A heartbeat. He'd recognize it anywhere.

He opens his eyes. He does not completely trust his senses, as they have fooled him before, when the madness was at its peak. But it is impossible not to believe the smell that assaults him now–a scent he has not experienced in fifteen years. A scent which brings both bliss and pain. The blood that had remained in his Volvo had deteriorated while he had immersed himself in its aroma, trying to bring her back to life with the power of his desperate, grief-stricken mind.

He surveys his surroundings. At first glance, it appears that nothing has happened; he is still in his living room. But as he looks around, he realizes that things are different. The couch is vibrant and new, the rest of the room fully furnished. The only thing missing is the coffee table. He suspects it is now underneath his car, which has been fully restored to the condition it was in before the accident.

He focuses again on her heartbeat, inhaling deeply as her scent destroys him. He relishes the pain, yet he fears that it is his mind's artifice. What more cruelty could fate throw his way than to hold her in front of him, taunting him, and then snatch her away once more? He is gripped by terror at the thought that she could actually be real, and that he most certainly will lose her again if he does not act quickly.

As he exits the car, he feels his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

Alice.

No doubt his future is in a shambles, or perhaps has even disappeared altogether, but he cannot spare the time to explain. He ignores the call and begins to walk toward the source of his being, the reason for his existence.

Her heartbeat begins to change, signaling that she will soon be awake. As he enters the room, he freezes momentarily at the sight of his wife's peacefully sleeping form. Emotion wells in him, simmering deep in his stomach, gripping his chest, gushing through his throat and exiting his mouth in wretched sobs as his body convulses.

He does not want her to wake to find him weeping. He fights for control over his raw emotions and makes his way to the bed. When he pulls back the covers, he is greeted by her naked form, the shredded negligee at the foot of the bed a testament to their activities the previous night. The smell of their sex assaults him, and he stifles a deep groan.

It has been so long.

He quickly rids himself of his clothing and climbs in beside her. She sighs happily, rolling to snuggle into his side. She has no idea of the significance of this moment. History is now being re-written. He wraps the blanket around her to keep her warm and buries his face in her hair.

Her eyes flutter open, and he is staggered when he gazes into their depths.

"Back so soon?" she asks, and he smiles, because he never left at all.

"I couldn't leave your side–I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to again," he whispers, and before she can question the desperation in his tone, he distracts her by running his tongue down her neck. She moans.

"Stay with me today. I want to make you mine forever." He mutters into the skin just above her collarbone. She gasps.

"Edward, are you saying…" Her heart rate spikes and he realizes she's asking if he is going to change her. He cuts her off with a searing kiss, his tongue poking out briefly to trace her lips. He is not playing fair by distracting her this way, but he will do everything possible to ensure that she does not get in his car today. Changing her is his last resort. She is utterly blissful in her life with him as a human. She enjoys the best of both worlds, and he is loath to take that away from her.

Her lips part eagerly as his tongue seeks entrance, and she is possessed by fierce passion as her hands pull frantically at his hair and her body writhes beneath him. He has never kissed her this way before. He smiles against her mouth, thrilled that he can make her respond so vehemently with such a simple gesture.

He wonders how she will react if he uses his tongue elsewhere…

As he continues to taste her skin, he allows the haze of desire to consume him as never before. His fingers dig into her skin, and she cries out in ecstasy at the urgency with which he devours her body.

He is everywhere, ravaging her with the voracity of a starving man— his soul is emaciated from the long years without her. He has become convinced that he does indeed have a soul, for it has bled for fifteen years.

When he begins licking his way up her inner thigh, she stills. She knows what he plans to do and that it will be difficult for him. Her body is rigid with the effort it takes her not to squirm. She doesn't realize that he's already given up the tenuous hold he had on his self-control.

"Bella, it's okay," he gasps. "Let go – I need this. I need to feel you come undone for me." He knows that he has probably bruised her in his frenzy, but he also knows that there is not a single fiber in his body that could do her serious harm. Not after all he has endured.

When his mouth reaches the apex of her thighs, he inhales deeply, allowing himself to be demolished by the combined scent of her blood and her sex. The haze of lust completely obliterates him, and he is awash in the sensations of her body surrounding him. When his mouth reaches its destination, he becomes frantic, lapping at her while his fingers dig into her hips, holding her to his ravenous mouth. He hears her ecstatic screams as she thrashes beneath his grasp. Her hands are in his hair, pulling and pushing and scratching, and he is lost.

Her hands are suddenly gone, and she is struggling to move up the bed, away from him. He growls and holds her firmly in place.

"Edward! Please, I can't take any more!" She pants raggedly. She is probably concerned about being late for work. He is not finished with her though, and he slides up her body, never breaking contact with her hot flesh, eyeing her like she is his last meal. She squeaks when he pulls her down under his cold body and spreads her legs with his. He devours her mouth as he enters her, urging her to forget why she needed him to stop.

He feels her hot sex surround him and he is overwhelmed. He pauses for a moment to savor this feeling of joining with his one true love, his life, his entire existence. He holds her tightly until he hears the hitch in her breath that signals it's too tight. Relaxing his grip only slightly, he begins to move within her, saturating himself, bringing them both to heights of delirium never before experienced. He lifts her torso to his chest and her head falls back, exposing her long white neck to him. As he runs his tongue along her artery, her frantic moans become fevered cries, and he feels her body clamp down around him. She shouts out expletives as he furiously drives himself into her heat. Her whole body stiffens, and she screams his name and grasps onto his body tightly until he finally slows, after spilling the last fifteen years of his love and grief into her.

He holds her close as they both come down, and he feels panic about what he has just done to her. He raises his body from hers and begins to inspect her. Large purplish bruises are starting to form, and he feels physically ill.

"I'm so sorry." He begins to lightly stroke and kiss each bruise. She stretches languidly and looks down at her body.

"Edward, don't worry about it. You know how easily I bruise." She strokes his hair soothingly and penetrates him with her gaze. "What's gotten into you? I thought you were going hunting with Jasper and Emmett."

"I just need you today, okay?"

"Okay, baby. I'm always here for you." She sprinkles kisses on his face. "But I do have to go to work – it's my first day!"

"People get sick on their first day of work."

"But people don't fake sick on their first day of work." She smacks his hand as he begins to play with one of her nipples. "Even to stay in bed with their supernaturally sexy and talented husbands. Not if they want to stay employed, that is."

"You don't need to work. I can take care of you." As soon as he says it, he regrets it. She huffs loudly and pushes him off of her.

"How am I supposed to enjoy my remaining time as a human if I'm bored silly? When I'm a newborn, I will no longer be able to work. I thought you wanted me to have this." She stands beside the bed, her hands on her hips. He looks contrite.

"You're right, love. I don't know what has come over me today. I guess I'm just feeling even more protective than usual." He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls her to him and nuzzles her belly button. She plays with his hair and he knows he is forgiven. "Please, humor me and let me drive you today?" He looks up at her through his lashes, and she rolls her eyes before walking away to shower.

In thirty-seven minutes, she grabs her keys. He kisses her passionately, still hoping to make her late, but she is onto him. In twenty-two minutes, a speeding car will run a red light and broadside the Volvo, smashing her head into the driver's side window and killing her instantly.

He is tearing inside as she walks to the car, which is now parked in the driveway. Alice must have seen his predicament and cleaned up the mess in the living room. She will demand answers later, but he cannot think about Alice right now. Bella turns and looks at him expectantly, and relief floods him when she holds out the car keys.

"You look like you're about to hyperventilate. And don't think I didn't notice that the coffee table is missing. When I get home, you _will_ tell me what's going on."

He smiles sheepishly and takes the keys. Nineteen minutes.

They are silent during the drive, but when he turns the wrong way onto Maple Street, she stares at him until he speaks.

"Traffic's backed up that way. Don't worry – I'll get you there." He flashes her favorite crooked grin and points to his temple, but she notices the tightness in his eyes. He takes several detours and is driving much slower than usual, his sharp eyes constantly darting toward side streets.

He lets out his long-held breath as he pulls the car in front of the college library, parking directly in front so she does not have to cross traffic. He has thwarted Death and brought her safely to work, but he cannot bring himself to rejoice. Death may not be pleased; it may come after her again. It has happened before.

He will stay close, watch her through the minds of her co-workers and patrons. He kisses her good-bye, holding her to him longer than necessary. She exits the car, flushed and wobbly, and he smirks.

As she retrieves her things from the backseat, he listens carefully to the thoughts around him, looking for anyone who might be a danger to her. There is a man who is late for work and is driving erratically, swerving in and out of traffic, cutting people off, intent on arriving at his destination in an impossible amount of time. As he scans traffic for a visual of the reckless driver, he also looks for potential hiding places so he can watch Bella.

The car door shuts. He turns to watch her walk to the library door, but she is not there. His phone vibrates frantically at the same moment he sees Bella in someone's mind, helping a cyclist who has fallen in the middle of the street. Just as Edward finds her with his own eyes, the reckless driver speeds around the corner, heedless of the people on the road. By the time the driver sees the situation, it is too late; he cannot stop. Quicker than any human will register, Edward pushes the cyclist out of harm's way and encloses Bella in his arms. The car's brakes are screeching, onlookers are shrieking. He runs as fast as he can, clinging tightly to Bella, but not before he hears the sound of her bones being crushed as the car impacts them, briefly pinning her between it and his stone body.

No no no no no no NO! Edward is single-minded in his determination to get her to a secluded area and bite her as quickly as possible. He prays to anyone who will listen that he is not too late. He stops in a wooded area, not caring if anyone is nearby, and lays her limp and broken body gingerly in the grass.

"Bella? Love, can you hear me?" She doesn't answer. He can hear her heartbeat, but it is weak. Maybe he cannot fight Death, or fate, or whatever it is that continues to conspire to take her away from him. Perhaps he should let her go and make his way back to the Volturi, or beg the wolves to end his life for him.

These are but fleeting thoughts as his conscience wrestles with him over what he is about to do. He knows deep down that he could never sit idly by while she perishes.

He must act quickly while her heart is still capable of pumping the venom through her body. He hates that he has no morphine—that he is alone, without the help and support of his family. But he knows that he will not lose control.

He rips her jacket open to reveal her neck, and bites. Her body remains limp. He bites both wrists, willing the venom to get to her heart. She shows no signs of life, save the faint beating of her heart. He worries that it is not enough, that her heart is not strong enough to move the venom through her body, but he remembers Esme's change, and how they had pronounced her dead first. He has hope.

Her body convulses and her eyes burst open wide. Her mouth opens as if to scream, but it is full of blood, and she begins to choke. His heart shreds as he holds her dying body in his arms, trying to keep her still so she does not hurt herself further.

Alice bursts through the trees, and he has never been so happy to see her.

"Carlisle is waiting in the car. We need to move her quickly, Edward!" She leads him to where Carlisle's Mercedes is parked. He slides into the backseat with Bella. Her eyes are wide, her face contorted with pain as she writhes in his lap. Carlisle jabs her with a syringe full of morphine, but Edward can tell from his thoughts that he holds little hope for its success in easing her pain.

"It's going to be okay, Edward." Alice looks at him from the front seat, her features serene. He smiles bleakly at her, even as she shows him a vision of Bella with crimson eyes. The next three days are still going to be hell.

By the time they reach the house, Bella has become quiet and still. Edward worries, but Carlisle assures him that her breathing and heart-rate are fine. She is fine. Perhaps the morphine is working. He carries her into their bedroom and lays her down on their bed, where less than two hours ago, they made love. He pulls up a chair at her side, where he will sit for the next three days.

He waits.


End file.
